Lost Heaven
by stealingETERNITY
Summary: Hermione had always liked a life of adventure. Now married, she's bored and seeks out the spark of danger that she so desperately wants. And with Ron gone for Quidditch, it looks like everything will work out.
1. Prologue

A light flickered in the hospital room. The tip of a wand cast a warm, golden light on the peaceful face of a sleeping woman, the light creating soft shadows that framed the woman's beautiful face. Her blonde hair glowed, making her look all the more like an angel. Just hours ago, she'd given birth twins, and like all mothers, her body had already taken on an ethereal glow, like having children was the most precious and healing thing in the world. The Healer pulled her hood further over her face, hiding her identity, and clutched one of the sleeping babies to her chest. She could only pray that the infant wouldn't suddenly wake up and cry. She didn't want the parents to wake up and see her. Making her way to a cradle with a newborn girl, she looked down into the empty cradle next to the girl's. The little boy she was holding slept there, but she hadn't been able to resist holding the baby. The mother and father were sleeping already, both of them managing to fit on the hospital bed, which someone had managed to make slightly larger.

The baby in the Healer's arms looked like the little girl, both had pale blonde hair and grey eyes. Swiftly, she dropped a kiss to the babe's forehead and laid him in the empty cradle. They should have been her children, she thought. They could have.

Taking one final look at the child, she forced a sad smile. It was for the best, wasn't it? Giving up any hope of continuing her affair would give the couple- or at least the wife- the life they'd wanted. And the father- who was cuddled with his wife on the hospital bed- she'd tell him she couldn't see him anymore. He had a responsibility as a father to his children and as a husband to his wife. As the Healer hurried out and apparated to her flat, she felt empty. Her husband was gone for the year, away for work. He'd never known that she'd had an affair with another married man and wanted to have his child.

And now she didn't even have her him anymore. Draco. She'd given him up; made a sacrifice for the man she loved- for both of the men that she loved. Crawling into bed, she turned the lights off and closed her eyes, falling asleep slowly, her slumber filled with images of what she had done.

In Saint Mungo's, the sleeping woman opened her eyes and stared into the darkness of her room. A baby's cry pierced through the silence, followed by another. Soon her ears rang with the wails. A smile crossed over her face at the thought of motherhood. She was ready to begin raising her children. Sliding out of bed, she made her way to the cradles, not knowing that the baby boy waving his tiny fists was the son of a cheating father. Anxious to see her children's faces- she'd already decided on their names, Scorpius and Artemis-she raised her wand and whispered, "Lumos." A light flickered in the hospital room.

Thanks for reading! Reviews are always welcome. :D


	2. Chapter 1

A quill snapped in half, breaking the silence with a sharp crack. Ink splattered from the shaft of the feather, running over her fingers and splashing onto the parchment beneath her hand. The pages were blank, their edges sharp and straight. But they should have been full with words. Hermione looked up from her stained fingers and glared at her room, angry tears filling her eyes. Everything was going wrong, terribly wrong. Laying the broken quill on her desk she shoved her chair back and slapped her palm onto the parchment. The silence in the room was to blame; it was the only possible explanation. It just had to be the reason for the lack of creativity and ideas. It was unnerving. She'd sat in front of her desk for hours, waiting for the words to come, for her hand to move across the paper and write and bring inky characters to life. But the words hadn't come.

Heaving a sigh of frustration, she moved away from her failed attempts at writing and scuffed her feet along her wood floor, hoping that she'd leave marks with her heels. She passed by the large window, which usually served as a fountain of ideas. Stooping down, she pushed the window up, opening her flat to the world outside. Her room overlooked a park, a park that should have been filled with families. She crinkled her brow in confusion. What was going on? Everything was off, there was no one in the park save for a few ducks waddling towards a pond used for boating. Her usual source of inspiration was a blank canvas, and eerily quiet.

Moving away, she reached for her radio and turned it on. At once a high voice began to warble from the speakers, and Hermione recognized the voice as Celestina Warbeck's, Mrs. Weasley's favorite singer.

_Oh, come and stir my cauldron,_

_And if you do it right,_

_I'll boil you up some hot strong love,_

_To keep you warm tonight._

She quickly stretched her hand out and changed the radio to a different station. Again, the same voice filled the room, this time singing _You Charmed the Heart Right Out of Me_. Grimacing, she turned the radio off. The only sound in the room was Crookshanks on her unmade bed, purring loudly. His tail flicked back on forth, his eyes staring at her with something like amusement. Huffing, Hermione turned her back to him and found herself in front of her bookcase.

Of everything in her room, this was the most important. It held memories and lessons and beloved characters that she'd befriended while reading their stories. But it wasn't her favorite stories that her eyes were drawn to. Her gaze settled on a set of four books nestled together on the topmost shelf. Almost immediately, she felt better. Pulling her wand from her pocket, she levitated the books down from the shelf and clutched all four to her chest protectively. Sitting next to Crookshanks on the bed, she spread them over her lap and looked at them adoringly.

_Lost Heaven_, all four covers read. The two words were written prettily in gold ink on soft leather covers, and below that were another two words that made the books all the more extraordinary. _Hermione Granger_. They were her books, completely hers, and she loved them. Stroking the spine of the first, her eyes drifted to her desk again. There it was. The parchment was mocking her. She glared at it and opened one of the books absentmindedly. Her finger trialed over the page, and she once more looked at the desk. She'd opened to a page in the back of the book, and in large letters it said-

_Lost Heaven: Upside Down _

_The last installment in the exciting romance series by Hermione J. Granger._

_Coming Soon!_

She closed the book with a resounding slam. Her own book was betraying her. There it was- the promise to her loyal readers that she was coming out with a fifth and final book. But she couldn't write it. Who knew how long it would take to finally complete her series? All she needed was a spark of inspiration and she could write… but that spark hadn't been ignited yet. Right now it felt as if that spark was never going to appear. Resignedly, Hermione levitated the books back to their place on the bookcase and sighed. No, this time around the job wouldn't be easy. This time, Hermione Jean Granger would have to find her own inspiration. She sat at her desk and pulled out a new quill, dipping it in ink. She waited, wracking her brains for an idea, a word, or perhaps a memory.

She thought about her already published books. The main character, Helen, was married to a man she'd known since childhood. Her life was safe, almost too happy, and she yearned for something more in life- excitement, adventure, anything. The series followed Helen's life as she lived her boring life, and reminisced on the adventures she had as a child. As Hermione sat at her desk, she realized how much her character resembled herself. And Helen's husband, he was very much like Ron, who was away for the Quidditch season. As she sat there, she realized she'd found her spark of inspiration. She would base the book on her own life, and write down events that happened to _her_, Hermione Granger. Then she would turn those events into _Helen's_ events and life.

She put the quill to the parchment and began writing, starting with- _Helen lay down on the couch, a grin playing across her lips. Her husband was gone for four months, away on business. Four months to do what she wanted. Four months just waiting for adventure._

Hermione grinned to herself. She had her idea. Now she needed the adventure. Putting her quill down, she grabbed a coat and her wand, rolled up her parchment and stuffed it in her pocket, and then apparated to Diagon Alley. She stepped into Flourish and Blotts, a smile of satisfaction tugging at her mouth. Her smile widened as her eyes settled on the hundreds- no, thousands- of books resting in the store's shelves. She full out grinned when she realized the store was nearly deserted. Sitting in an empty armchair, she pulled out her story and began to write Helen's story.

_Richard was gone for four months. She was free. Helen set out towards her favorite book store, where hundreds of stories were waiting for her. Stories filled with adventure and danger. While not exactly an adventure itself, it was a start._

Hermione smiled and briefly changed the names in her mind to fit herself and Ron. Of the few sentences she had, one stood out the most.

_She was free_.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hope you enjoyed it. :) I've got Chapter 3 written and will post it soon. I am, however in a sort of writer's block (already!) so reviews are welcome.

Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 2

It was a slow business day in Flourish and Blotts. The silence in the store was calming, and the sunlight coming through the large glass storefront warmed Hermione as she curled up on the armchair, writing. Dust floated through the air, settling on books and rising once more into the air when the rare customer entered the store and lifted a book.

Hermione wrote about Helen, wrote about her character's search for adventurous ideas. She flipped through various books in the store for the occasional idea and also added her own ideas. As she wrote the last word of a scene, she sighed with satisfaction and reread her words.

_Helen crossed her legs and sat on the floor of her favorite bookstore, surrounded by piles of books. She was on a mission, a mission to come up with as many adventurous, dangerous, and romantic ideas that she could. Pulling the first book towards her, she began to flip through the pages, her eyes scanning the words for anything that looked exciting. Three hours later, she set the final book back in its original shelf and grasped the list in her hand that she'd been working on. _Things I'd Like to Do, _read the top of the list. _

_Fly over London on a broom at night_

_Ice skate on a frozen pond_

_Dive off a cliff into the ocean_

_Ride in a horse-drawn carriage_

_Wake up early and walk on the beach_

_Play hide-and-seek in a huge garden_

_Watch the sunset from a mountain top_

_Though some of the ideas were cheesy, Helen still wanted to do them. Most had ended up as romantic and not so adventurous or dangerous, but she didn't mind. As long as it was different from her normal, boring routine it was fine. She only had doubts about one thing. She would need someone to share the seven events with, and Richard wasn't there to share with. _

Hermione ran her finger over each of the seven things, imagining herself doing them. Each time she did, there was someone with her, but she didn't know _who_. It was frustrating. She played the scenes through her mind over and over again, going through all different kinds of possibilities, but none felt right. When she thought of Ron, she actually shuddered. She couldn't imagine doing any of those things with her husband. He was already too much of a sappy romantic, and just the thought of flying on a broom with him was frightening. She loved Ron, but he was too reckless when he was flying.

Placing her parchment on a small table next to the armchair, Hermione got up. She spotted a coffee shop nestled in the back corner of the store and saw a man managing the cash register. A single word scrolled through her thoughts. _Experiment._ She was going to do things she hadn't done in a while, she decided.

The man at the shop was handsome, she thought. And he looked around her age. Ordering herself a coffee, she leaned forward and rested her elbow on the counter as he made her coffee, batting her eyes at him when he turned to glance at her, and feeling ridiculous as she did so. She made sure he saw her gazing at his arse and grinned cheekily at him while fluttering her eyes again. He returned her grin and stepped towards her, pressing buttons on the cash register. She was surprised to see that he was making her coffee like a Muggle would, and not with magic. Hermione dug through her coat pocket for some sickles and pressed them into his hand, letting her fingers graze his palm and linger there slightly longer than needed. She felt exhilarated, almost like she was a teenager again, flirting with any cute boy she saw. Though she'd never done that.

He turned away again, talking over his shoulder to her. "So, what's your name?"

"Hermione," she said, her eyes roving over several papers stuck to the wall. They were all advertisements. One caught her eye, flashed with bright, childish colors and letters. _VOLUNTEERS NEEDED!_ the poster said in vivid red. _THE HOME FOR LITTLE WITCHES AND WIZARDS. LOCATED ACROSS FROM WEASLEY'S WIZARDING WHEEZES. SIGN UP ENDS AT THREE O'CLOCK ON APRIL SECOND. _

She hadn't known there was an orphanage in Diagon Alley. Perhaps it was new, and that was the reason for the needed volunteers. She'd never really volunteered for much before. She thought of the children that must live there, imagined what they did. Why, they were probably just as bored with there lives as she was with hers. Hermione made an impulsive decision to sign up to volunteer. She glanced at her watch and saw that it was five 'til three.

"Sorry, I've got to go," she said hurriedly just as the man was turning around. She took off, running towards the front of the store. "Keep the money!" she shouted over her shoulder. She slowed down as she neared the glass door.

"Wait!" he called after her. "I didn't get your last name!"

She grinned as she ran down the street. Flirting had given her a rush of adrenaline. She ran faster than she had in a long time. Even the simple act of running was thrilling, and having shoppers stare at you as you raced by just added to it. Hermione came to a stop in front of the orphanage. She had seen it before actually arriving, as the building rivaled the joke shop across from it. While Fred and George's joke shop had windows filled with whirring objects, The Home for Little Witches and Wizards was painted a canary yellow and the trim on the windows was painted sky blue. She approached the front door (which was painted scarlet) cautiously, afraid a horde of children would come running out and trample over her.

Pushing the door open, she was pleased that she stepped into the orphanage in one whole piece. The place was filled with children running around and playing games. There were several games of Exploding Snap and Wizard's Chess going on. Hermione weaved her way through a group of small girls all changing their features like Tonks had been able to do. At last, she made her way to a table set up against a wall.

"Here to sign up?" It was a woman with fiery red hair who asked her this. Hermione nodded, looking at the room around her in wonderment. A large clock suddenly broke into two pieces and a bird flew out, calling out the time.

"Three o'clock, three o'clock!" Its squawks filled the room and two twin boys leaped up to try and grab it. The place was definitely full of life, Hermione concluded.

"Just in time, I see," the woman said, handing her a scroll of paper. "If you'd fill this in, then we can add you to the list." Taking a quill from a cup, Hermione filled in her name and address and then checked a small box that said- _I will volunteer once a week. _There were other boxes that offered two or three times a week, but she decided to go with one and then see how it went from there. "Thank you," the woman said, taking the paper back as soon as Hermione had signed it.

Smiling, Hermione made her way back through the children and onto the street. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she could do anything and everything. She hadn't known that simply signing up to volunteer her time could make her feel so good. Buttoning her coat, she gripped her wand and turned on the doorstep of the orphanage, Apparating back to her flat.

That was an adventure, she thought as she appeared in front of her flat's door. Whispering "_Alohomora_" she unlocked the door, deciding that she was going to add signing up to volunteer to Helen's list of adventures. It would make for several touching scenes later on in the story. Readers always loved tender scenes with children- especially orphans- didn't they?

Reaching into her coat pocket for her scroll of parchment, she found that it was empty. She began to panic when she couldn't find it anywhere in the flat or in the hall. Hermione quickly Apparated to Flourish and Blotts and the orphanage, really frightened when neither building had her story.

She returned to her flat, sobbing. Collapsing onto the bed, she pulled Crookshanks towards her chest and curled up, ignoring his yowls of discomfort. "What am I going to do, Crooks? I've lost it." She looked into his amber eyes and sighed when he simply stared at her. "Do you know where it is?" she whispered.

She couldn't rewrite it all. Well, physically she could, but her mental and emotional health wouldn't be able to take it. She only had enough courage to be adventurous once. Rewriting Helen's betrayal to her husband would remind her of what she was doing, and she'd feel guilty. Why couldn't she just be happy with Ron? Wasn't the life that she had enough?

She buried her head into her pillow and screamed, glad that the sound was muffled. Unless some miracle occurred and she found her manuscript, Hermione's adventures had already come to an end. But she didn't want them to.


	4. Chapter 3

Blinking her eyes open, Hermione sat up in bed and stared out the window, her eyes screwed up against the sunlight. She'd lost it. Two chapters written and over with and she'd lost the book. Rubbing her eyes, she sighed and got out of bed, sliding her feet into fuzzy slippers.

She set about making breakfast for herself and filling Crookshanks's water and food bowls, thinking all the while. Sitting at the breakfast table pushed up against a wall, she came to a conclusion. Yes, the book was lost. But she'd keep looking for it- and she'd find it. In the meantime she'd keep living life and she would also keep a diary of sorts. Her daily life would be recorded so that she could add it to the manuscript as soon as she found it. Yes, that was her plan.

As she ate her eggs and toast- the taste of them painfully reminding her of the Burrow and Ron and what she was doing- she decided she would go to the orphanage. She needed something to make her feel good, and volunteering her time for the children seemed as if it would do the job. A flick of her wand had her plate and cup clean, dry, and stored in the cupboard as is they'd never been used. Throwing a sweater over her shirt, she waved goodbye to Crookshanks and Apparated to Diagon Alley, landing in front of The Home for Little Witches and Wizards.

The bright colors of the building lifted her spirits and she pushed the front door open, taking in the sights and sounds of the orphanage. It was the same as it had been the day before- loud and bright and filled with energetic children. The same red haired woman was there, and she grinned at Hermione, waving her over.

"Here to volunteer already?" she asked, her teeth gleaming.

Looking over her shoulder at all the kids, Hermione swallowed nervously and nodded.

"Do you know what you'd like to do with them?"

"Do with them?" Hermione shook her head. "What is there to do?"

The witch looked down at a paper before answering, "Right now there's the coloring group, the cooking group, the games group, and the reading group still without a volunteer. Any of those strike your interest?" She looked up at Hermione, waiting for an answer.

"Reading," she said quickly. There was no way she was going to cook with a group of children, especially with children who could accidentally use magic at any moment. It could only lead to disaster.

"Right this way." Hermione followed the witch down a lime green hallway, staring back at the wide eyed children peeping from behind watermelon pink doors. She ended up in a room filled with kids who looked to be around seven or eight, most of them girls. Like the kids from behind the doors, these children were also staring at her, their eyes large as they took in Hermione Granger, friend of the war hero Harry Potter. And then the other witch left her there. Hermione swallowed.

"Hello." Her voice was a little shaky. They were silent. This was ridiculous, she thought. She, Hermione Granger (Weasley, she reminded herself), frightened of a group of children. "Would you like to hear a story?" They nodded as one, an action that had a rather frightening effect. Hermione spotted a bookcase in a corner of the room and sighed with relief. She ran to it, cocking her head at an angle to read the titles. There it was- _The Tales of Beedle the Bard._

Pulling it off the shelf, she turned back to the kids and was happy to see them sitting on couches, their legs dangling over the sides or resting on heaps of pillows. Every wizarding child liked Beedle's fairytales, didn't they? "We're going to read-" she paused and opened the book, scanning the table of contents before seeing a story that she remembered Ron mentioning- "_Babbitty Rabbitty and Her Cackling Stump_." 

Settling herself in an armchair, Hermione peered out at the small children, who were all waiting expectantly. And so, looking back down at the book, she began to read. _"A long time ago, in a far-off land, there lived a foolish King who decided that he alone should have the power of magic."_ She looked up. With that one sentence, the children were already entranced. She could only hope that her books had that effect on readers. Leaning back, she made herself more comfortable. She had the feeling that she'd be here a while. The words of the fairytale rolled off her tongue, filled the room with magic, the kind of magic that didn't need a wand to come to life.

Two hours and fifty-two minutes and five stories later, Hermione read the last few lines of the story that meant the most to her. _"But though Death searched for the third brother for many years, he was never able to find him. It was only when he had attained a great age that the youngest brother finally took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his son. And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life."_

Slowly, she closed the book, and smile on her face. She knew_ the Tale of the Three Brothers _very well. Her eyes closed for a moment as she remembered the seventh year that she'd never had the chance to spend at Hogwarts. She'd had such adventures back then, just five years ago. Before she married Ron.

A cough broke the silence and she looked up to see the children looking at her. Rising to her feet, she returned the book to its spot, her fingers lingering on the spine. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," a small voice said. She smiled at the little boy who said it, and her ears were filled with a chorus of voices, all of them saying the same thing. _"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley."_

She cringed. Mrs. Weasley. She'd never really thought of herself as Hermione _Weasley_. Now that she did, she didn't like it. She wanted to be Hermione _Granger_. Mrs. Weasley made her sound like Molly- whom she loved but didn't want to be like.

"Thank _you_," she said to them, leaving the room. As she put her hand on the door, she looked back and was shocked to see a head of pale blond hair suddenly duck into a room. _That was Draco Malfoy_. Or was it? She couldn't be certain, and she didn't think he of all people would be volunteering at an orphanage, but still… no one else had that hair.

She left the orphanage, having given almost three times the amount of time that she'd promised, and feeling wonderful for it. She also left the orphanage puzzled over the fact that she'd seen Draco Malfoy there.

Across the street was Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, still as bright and colorful as ever. Opening the door, she made her way to the back of the store to find George. He hadn't been the same after Fred's death, but he was slowly getting better. Ginny had told her that he was starting to see Angelina again, and that she was helping him.

Spotting Ron's brother helping someone, she looked around and noticed that there were no other employees in the store helping him. Deciding to stick around for a bit, Hermione helped the many customers in the store. There was an endless line of people entering the joke shop. Children spending their pocket money, girls buying love potions… all of them were looking at everything with wonderment, their heads swiveling around to get a good look at everything.

When the shop was finally empty, Hermione found George in a back room of the store, looking through boxes. Her arrival made him replace a lid on a box and turn to face her. "Hello, Hermione."

She grinned at him and stepped forward to hug him. He'd become her brother-in-law when she married Ron, but he'd been like a brother long before that. "Hello, George. How's the business going?"

He sat down on a crate, his hand running through his shocking red hair. "It's so different without Fred. We- we started the shop together and now that he's gone… It's just-" He trailed off and stared at something she couldn't see.

"Different?" she finished.

He nodded. "There's so many customers, and just myself to help them." He looked up at her. "You saw how it is. Always full."

"Yeah. Crazy."

"Thanks for helping out, Hermione."

She smiled at him, deciding that the day had gone by pretty well. She'd accomplished what she'd wanted- to do something that made her feel good. First reading to the kids, and then helping George.

He stood up and rummaged through some more boxes, finally pulling out a quill and handing it to her. Hermione looked at it strangely, confused.

"Here," he said. "Fred was working on it before he died." A pained look crossed his freckled face. "I'm not sure what it does, exactly, but I'm sure you'll figure out. Use it to write that last book if you want."

She looked up at him. "Thanks, George."

He grinned at her. "I'll just apologize in advance in case it hurts you."

Laughing, she nodded her head, said goodbye, and then walked back into the main room of the store. Pushing open the door just in time for a new horde of customers to rush in, she noticed someone coming out of the orphanage across the street. She didn't get to see who it was, as the person hastily pulled a hood over their head and hurried away.

Turning on the spot, she Apparated back to her flat and shoved the quill in her desk drawer. She wasn't about to use something that had an unknown use- especially when it was from the Weasley twins. Last time she'd done so, she'd ended up with a black eye.


	5. Chapter 4

"Oh yeah? Well have you ever been in a knife fight with a _princess_?"

Hermione stared at the little girl who had asked her this, an eyebrow raised in surprise. Where did these kids get their imaginations? She wished she could look into their minds and get all of their ideas for writing inspiration. It would make some great stories.

"No. But have you ever been attacked by a _troll_?"

She found herself being stared at by a dozen children with wide eyes. "Impossible," a small boy whispered. She grinned and shook her head.

"It's true. And I've gone on so many adventures that I can't even count them all."

She was at the orphanage for the third day in a row. It was addicting, giving her time to these children who couldn't live with a family of their own. At the moment she was finger painting. After making a particular picture of herself, Harry, and Ron, she'd been forced to share her adventures with the children. And then they'd _all_ started sharing stories, seeing whose adventure was the best. She was fairly certain that she was winning at the moment.

"Do you know Mr. Harry Potter?" Hermione looked at the little girl who had nervously asked the question and nodded.

"I do. He's my very best friend."

"What about Mr. Weaslebee?"

A hysterical sob ripped from her throat as she thought of Ron. He had no idea what was happening back home. The children stared at her with worried faces and she tried to laugh the whole thing off. "You mean Mr. Weasley?" They nodded. "He's my husband."

Several of them made faces of disgust and others stared at her, their eyes nearly popping out of the heads, they were so wide. "Who told you his name was Mr. Weaslebee?" she asked, getting the feeling that she already knew.

No one answered. They were all looking at each other with guilty looks. Hermione guessed that they'd been told not to tell. "Come on," she said gently. "You can tell me. I promise not to tell." She pretended to zip her lips shut, lock them, and throw away the imaginary key. They relaxed a little and some of them giggled a bit. But still, no one spoke. "I'll tell you another adventure if you tell me," she bribed.

At this, their faces brightened and she felt evil. Bribing little children… What was she doing?

"It was Mr. Dragon!" Shouts began to fill the small room.

"No, it was Mr. Drogo!"

A girl with blond curls stood up on a chair and everyone grew silent and stared at her. Her eyes were closed and she had her hands over her ears, as if everyone's shouting had hurt them. "It was Mr. Blondie!" she shouted. "Not Mr. Dragon, not Mr. Drogo! Mr. Blondie!" And with that, she stepped off the chair and smiled broadly at everyone, both of her front teeth missing.

Hermione could only giggle some more at the names they were coming up with. Obviously, they were talking about Draco. So she'd been right, he did volunteer at the orphanage. But why? As the kids argued some more about what his _real_ name was, she grinned to herself. He would have a heart attack if he knew they were calling him "Mr. Blondie".

"Tell us more about your adventures, Mrs. 'Mione." They'd started calling her that after she told them to call her Hermione and not Mrs. Weasley. Though she didn't like the nickname _'Mione _that much, it was better than being called _Mrs. Weasley_. "And your husband."

She took a deep breath and began to tell them all about her third year and Sirius Black. When she mentioned that one of her professors was a werewolf, they looked at her like she was the bravest person they knew. And when she got to the part with her using the time turner and saving Buckbeak and Sirius, they clapped and cheered as if she was a hero. Which, of course, in a way she was.

After the story, she was bombarded with questions about Ron. _Do you love him a lot? Have you ever snogged? Are you going to have a baby? _She answered all of the questions in her head first. Yes, I love him, but not nearly as much as I used to. He's always been more like a brother to me. I've snogged him a lot. No, we're not having a baby.

And then she told them the lies, the stories that the rest of the world believed about her and Ron. The fairytale version, where everything was perfect with their relationship and she lived _happily ever after_. She'd always hated those kinds of books. An ending needed to have the right combination of sadness and joy if it was going to work and make her feel satisfied when she finished reading. She hoped her books had that right combination. As she answered the questions, she vaguely heard a door open and someone come in, but she didn't look up.

"Yes, I love Ron very, very much. I miss him when he's away playing Quidditch. Of course we've snogged, we're married." She blushed a bit when a few of the older boys who lived at the orphanage grinned cheekily at her. She struggled to continue. "We've talked about having a baby, but I'm not having one right now."

There was a brief silence when she finished speaking. Then, slowly, clapping started from the corner of the room. Hermione jerked her head up, looking for the source of the sound, and flinched when her eyes met with Draco Malfoy's. "Charming," he drawled sarcastically. "I'm sure you think everyone loves knowing about your life, Granger. Just charming." His smirk was in place, of course, or he wouldn't have been Draco Malfoy without it. "And how is the Weaslebee doing?" His voice was patronizing, saying that he was better than anyone else and he knew it.

"Fine, thank you," she snapped. She tried to keep her temper, since the kids were still in the room. She could easily forget herself around them when Draco was nearby with his anger provoking comments.

"Why aren't you having a kid with him, Granger? Isn't that what Weasleys are for? I bet you're scared they'll be idiots like their father. I know I would." He sneered at her haughtily, his grey eyes cold and dispassionate.

"Malfoy, the children," she snarled warningly, looking around at the kids staring at them. She didn't want them to see this.

Suddenly, the small girl with blond curls ran up to Draco. "Mr. Blondie!" she screamed with delight, wrapping her arms around his legs, her head coming up only to his waist. He stared down at her, an elegant eyebrow raised.

Hermione laughed aloud at the look on his face. The small girl looked up at Draco to see the look on his face. She must have been surprised by the anger she saw, because she promptly burst into tears, sobbing, "Why don't you love me anymore, Mr. Blondie?"

Snickering, Hermione watched as he awkwardly patted her head. She wondered if he was usually nice to the children. There had to be a reason the girl loved him so much. And if he was, why did he care so much about being the superior Pureblood that he had to be mean to a poor, innocent girl? Marching over, she pulled the girl away and held her, soothing her as she sneered at Draco. Once the little girl stopped crying, she set her back down on her feet. Waving goodbye cheerily, she turned and walked out of the room.

She had just made it out the doors and was walking down the street when she heard footsteps behind her. Ducking into a nearby alley, she waited for the person to go on so she could see who it was. The person followed her, though, so she whirled around, her wand in her hand. She found herself face to face with Draco.

"What the bloody hell was that back there, Granger?"

"I've got no idea what you're talking about."

"You just left me there with them. Do you know how hard it is to get away from those children?" He wasn't that angry, really. At least, she hoped he wasn't.

"_You're_ the one who interrupted my volunteer time with your sarcastic, demeaning, rude comments. Your behavior in front of those children was inappropriate. Did you forget how young they are?" She was breathing a little heavily, her wand hand quivering a bit. "I was perfectly fine telling them stories—"

He sneered at her and pressed forward until she was forced to stumble back, her spine hitting the brick wall behind her. "You like to tell stories, don't you Granger?" he asked menacingly. "You just love to fill their little heads with fairytales. Tell me this, _Hermione_—" He said her name like it was an insult, and she was furious. His voice dropped to a low whisper as he leaned forward to hiss into her ear. "Does Weaslebee know about your little stories? Does he know that your marriage isn't the little fairytale that _he_ thinks it is? You're a liar, Granger, and you know it. You think it's _exciting_ to be all daring while he's gone."

She stared at him in shock, her chest rising and falling rapidly. How did he know? There was no way he could know, was there? If he knew… she grimaced. He didn't care about her. He could tell the world about her secret and ruin her, and he _wouldn't care_. The most frightening thing though, was that he knew exactly how she felt about her life. She _did _think it was exciting when Ron was gone. He'd voiced her thoughts aloud, thoughts that she was sometimes scared to admit to herself. Raising her chin, she tried to look him in the eyes, but found herself unable to. His knowing laugh filled her ears and she bit her lip, gnawing on it with worry. Managing to find her voice and her courage, she met his gaze.

"You've got no idea what you're talking about." She stepped away from him and prepared to apparate. He reached for her, but she dodged his hands. "Good day, _Mr. Blondie_." She grinned and then turned swiftly, his face the last thing she saw before the alley was gone and she was back in her flat. At the moment, nothing was right. Her book was still gone and her secret was out. With dread, she realized that her life was currently resting in the hands of Draco Malfoy. What luck.


	6. Chapter 5

When Hermione woke up two days later, the first thing she heard was a tapping on the window. Groaning, she rolled over and buried her head beneath her pillow. "Go away," she mumbled sleepily. She's spent the last two days worrying endlessly over the state of her life, wondering when Malfoy was going to reveal her secret.

The tapping stopped for a moment, and then began again, louder than before. Lifting her head, Hermione stared at Crookshanks, who was seated on the large, square bedpost at the foot of the bed. His tail was waving slowly, the tip flicking every so often. "Crooks," she called, trying to make her voice sweet. He didn't even flinch. "Crookshanks!" This time he turned his head slightly, but still didn't come to her.

She pushed herself up so she was resting on her elbows and tried to see what he was staring at. There was an owl at the window, fluttering madly. In its claws it held a large stack of papers tied together with twine. Hermione's heart nearly stopped. Was it… could it be her lost manuscript, returned by a mysterious savior?

Throwing the covers off of the bed, she lunged towards the window. At the same moment, Crookshanks leapt from his seat on the bed post. Trying to duck out of the way, Hermione shrieked in pain when her cat landed on her shoulder, tottering precariously before sinking his claws into her shoulder.

The owl tapped with even more fierceness at the window, and she forgot Crookshanks for the moment and hurried to the window. Crookshanks suddenly jumped from her shoulder and onto the windowsill, twisting a bit before settling himself on top of the lock at the bottom of the window. "Move!" she screeched. He gazed up at her, opening his mouth in a lazy yawn, his teeth sharp and gleaming. Hermione swore. "Crookshanks, don't you dare make me throw you!"

She normally felt that the cat could understand her, but today he was acting stupid, like any other cat. "Why do you hate me?" she moaned. He was smiling at her; she could swear he was smiling at her exasperation. Bloody cat. She tried to reach under his body for the lock, but he batted out a paw and caught her hand beneath it, his claws piercing her skin.

"Don't say I didn't warn you!" she shouted, reaching for her wand. She realized it was on the other side of the room, on her bedside table. Changing the direction of her grab, she closed her hands around the cat's large middle and threw him. He landed with a thud on the wooden floor, yowling. "I'm sorry Crooks!" she cried, suddenly feeling terrible. He stirred feebly, jerked, and then jumped to his feet, hissing. She watched him stalk away, his bottlebrush tail stiff and fluffed up in anger.

The tapping began again and she turned from him to the window in excitement. Unlocking the window, she shoved it open and watched the owl soar into the room, dropping its package on the bed. She recognized the owl at once, and her excitement fell flat. "Oh. Hello, Athena."

The brown owl hooted softly before settling on the bed post, where Crookshanks had perched just minutes before. Athena was her press manager's owl. Sighing, Hermione untied the leather cord holding all the sheets of parchment together. The top piece was folded in half, with her name scribbled on top. Unfolding it, Hermione scanned the thin, loopy writing, growing unhappier with each word she read.

_Hermione,_

_Don't forget, book signing today! Be at Flourish and Blotts by ten, we're expecting quite a large turnout. Wear something nice. Please. These are your fans you're meeting. Send Athena back with any questions._

_Leah_

Turning the paper over, Hermione hurried to grab a quill and reply.

_Leah,_

_Sorry, can't make it. Something's come up._

_Hermione_

The truth was, she'd completely forgotten about the signing. She didn't want to go, anyhow. At the moment, she didn't even want to think about her books. Giving the letter to the waiting owl, she watched Athena fly back out the window until she was just a speck in the sky.

Picking up the rest of the papers that Leah had sent—the ones she'd thought had been her manuscript—she groaned when she saw it was all fan mail. Busying herself with reading them, she waited for the owl to return, knowing that Leah would definitely send her back with a response.

_Mrs. Weasley, I'm just writing to say I absolutely _love_ you series!_

_Hermione, your books are the best! Can't wait to read more about my favorite couple!_

_Please keep writing, your books have inspired me to rekindle the romance in my marriage!_

Grimacing, Hermione tossed letter after letter onto the bed. What would all of her readers say when they read _Lost Heaven_? That was, when she found it and continued writing. She glanced at her watch. Athena had been gone for fifteen minutes; it was seven after nine. Just then, the owl soared back into the room, carrying a scarlet envelope.

"No, no, no! She can't just send me a Howler!" The envelope began to smoke. Athena fluttered her wings a little, her beak clacking. "All right, go on and yell." The envelope exploded into flames and Hermione stumbled back a bit.

_HERMIONE, YOU'D BETTER BE AT FLOURISH AND BLOTTS AT TEN OR I'M COMING OVER AND DRAGGING YOUR SORRY ARSE THERE! SOMETHING CAME UP? I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE THINKING! THIS MIGHT WELL BE ONE OF YOUR MOST IMPORTANT PUBLIC APPEARANCES EVER! AND YOU'D BETTER NOT SHOW UP IN MUGGLE CLOTHES OR I SWEAR I'LL KILL YOU._

With a final puff of smoke, the voice stopped, the red tongue-like ribbon rolled back up, and the envelope crumbled into ash. Grabbing her wand, Hermione cleared the cinders from the bed and got to her feet. "I don't need to make bloody public appearances," she grumbled to herself, glaring at the owl. "Aren't I already famous enough? Or does being a war hero not earn me any recognition at all?"

Athena screeched loudly. "And you'd better shut up or I'll pull all your feathers out." Crossing the room to the closet doors, she pulled them open and began to sort through her robes. "Pink… What the hell do I have pink robes for?" Hermione shoved the garish robes to the back of the closet. "White… How am I supposed to keep white robes clean?" She pushed them aside as well, finally deciding to wear a dark blue set that she'd gotten for Christmas a few years back.

Not hungry, she glanced at her watch, saw it was a quarter to ten, and turned on the spot, Disapparating with a pop. Standing outside the book store in Diagon Alley, she frowned, worried whether or not Leah was going to kill her, and then opened the door, gasping when she saw the amount of people already lined up before the empty table with a banner overhead stating, "_Hermione Granger's Lost Heaven Series. Get your copy signed today!"_

Ducking her head, she hurried to the back of the store, where Leah was most likely waiting with a crew of workers. Spotting her, she smiled as brightly as she could and said, "Morning, Leah!" with false cheeriness.

"Where the bloody hell have you been? We've been waiting for hours!"

"I—you told me to be here at ten!" Hermione spluttered.

"Yes, but you know we always meet an hour before the actual planned meeting time," she hissed. "Look at you! We can't have you out there like this!"

Several women scurried forward and whipped out various lipstick tubes and compacts. Backing away, Hermione glared at them, but to no avail. They surrounded her, painting her face up. She probably looked like a clown. "Would you stop—" The woman doing her hair gave it a particularly violent pull. "Ouch!"

Pulling away, Hermione fixed a smile on her face, grabbed a quill from a waiting attendant, and moved out from behind several bookcases to greet her fans. They started moving towards her at once, a great mass of people. Sighing, she sat at the table and began to sign away.

Three hours later, the line was still huge, and her hand was cramping. A photographer from the _Daily Prophet_ had shown up just minutes ago and was already snapping away, getting much too close to her face with his camera. And then a voice sounded from somewhere nearby.

"Eating up the attention, are we?"

Groaning to herself, Hermione looked up to see Draco Malfoy standing before her, smirking. The photographer looked delighted.

"Oh! See here, everybody! It's Mr. Malfoy himself!"

And then Hermione realized that this was a terrible situation. Malfoy knew her secret. He could tell everyone right now, and all of her fans would hate her, and Harry would be so disappointed. _Everyone _would be so disappointed. She had to get him out. _Now_.

Leaping from her seat, she ran around the table and draped her arm around his shoulder. "Draco Malfoy! It's great to see you! Simply marvelous!" She grinned at the photographer, who was clicking away.

"You know Mr. Malfoy?" the man asked.

Thinking quickly, Hermione came up with a story and hoped Draco wouldn't have time to interrupt and ruin it all. "Of course! Draco and I were best friends at Hogwarts, weren't we?" She smiled up at him with what she hoped was an adoring expression and he sneered back.

"How lovely! What a wonderful reunion between old friends! Let's get some more pictures, shall we?" No, no. That would give him more time to tell. Improvising, Hermione grabbed a stack of her books that had already been pre-signed and clutched them to her chest. "Ladies and gentleman! When Draco Malfoy came here today, he had no idea he was going to get my series for free! Here's to you, Draco!" And then she dropped the books into his arms.

But the photographer was still going on about them meeting up. "I didn't even know you were friends! This will make a great story!"

There was a laugh from Draco next to her.

"There's a lot you don't know about Hermione," he said.

Acting as if this were funny, Hermione giggled, hoping it would not be noticed as a nervous laugh. He was going to say it. Her life was ruined.

"Tell us all you know!" the reporter accompanying the photographer said excitedly. "We hardly know anything about Harry Potter's best friends and their lives." The expression on her face was one of greed.

No, no, no! This couldn't be happening. Clutching Draco's shoulder, Hermione glanced up at him. "Draco, darling," she said sweetly, all the while thinking—_darling?_ "Why don't we meet up for a nice long chat at Florean Fortescue's?" She dug her fingers into his shoulder as hard as she could. "We can have some ice cream together!" she cooed, hoping she sounded sincere. With one last smile, she escorted him to the door and pushed him out, hissing, "Stay away from me and my life!" and then watching with a satisfied smile as he walked away.

Returning to the table, she felt like crying when she saw the amount of people still waiting in line. She couldn't help but hope that the remaining fans wouldn't take more than half an hour.

Who knew if Malfoy had taken her seriously?

What the bloody hell was she going to do if he really was waiting for her at the ice cream parlour?


End file.
